


Getting To Know Her

by afteriwake



Series: The Private Lives Of Teachers [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Amy Is A Widow, Amy's Past, Curious Sherlock, F/M, In-Laws, Lunch, Offers To Tutor, Pre-Relationship, Proud Amy, Sherlock Has A Crush, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9629321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Sherlock and Amy have lunch together at Coal Hill and Sherlock learns more about his fellow teacher, who has started to fascinate him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlowingMechanicalHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowingMechanicalHeart/gifts).



> So this is another belated Christmas gift/cheer-up fic for **ladyofhimring** , that I thought she would enjoy since she liked theLestrade/Donna fic in this series. It's just a little bit of pre-ship cuteness, but it's not as angsty as the other pre-ship Pondlock I wrote earlier. ::hugs::

He studied her, as covertly as he could. It didn’t help that the art studio was outside of the main building for most of the classes, so it was rather hard to see her very often, but there were morning faculty meetings, and on occasions he saw her by herself, either snapping photographs of things with an old-fashioned camera or sketching in a sketchbook. He, himself, didn’t like to mingle with his fellow faculty, aside from a few exceptions, but when you were the headmaster’s brother, well...there was always talk of favoritism, wasn’t there?

But she seemed oblivious to that, the few times she spoke to him. Always friendly, always making time for a little small talk. Sometimes he liked to think perhaps it was a bit more than with other males on staff, and he wondered why he noticed, why he cared. After all, romantic attachments caused nothing but trouble and heartache most of the time; he had seen very few exceptions, and he could only name two at Coal Hill that seemingly beat the mold of co-worker relationships, and that would be John Smith and Molly Hooper for one, and his own best mates John Watson and Mary Morstan for another. But those were two relationships out of myriad dalliance among the faculty, and that wasn’t to mention the students.

Not that Amelia was interested in the students. Not that she seemed to be interested in _anyone_ , really. It was wishful thinking that she might be interested in him, really.

And why did he want her to be? A romantic relationship would complicate things.

But a friendship, on the other hand...perhaps that would be a different matter.

He left a note in her box to join him for lunch in his classroom. He generally did not eat with the other teachers; aside from those few he was close to, he knew most looked down at him. It wasn’t hard to know Mycroft was his older brother, and he had come into his position when Mycroft had taken over so _obviously_ he hadn’t _earned_ the position. And it hadn’t helped that the teacher he had replaced had been jovial and well-liked. But of course he had; Sherlock had discovered hidden bottles of liquor all over the room. The man had probably been pissed throughout most of the school. But there was no point bringing it up to the others who were fond of him, so he generally kept to himself. It was easier.

But somehow, in the space of time between when he had left the note and her arrival, Amelia had gotten enough food for the both of them, and here they were, a veritable feast laid out on his desk. He had to admit, it was better than what he usually ate. Perhaps he could make this a more regular occurrence.

“You want to know why I still wear my wedding ring.”

Her voice jolted him out of his thoughts. “I’ll admit I was curious, but if you don’t want to share, you don’t have to,” he said, picking up his half of the sandwich she had brought and taking a bite. She must have done some research of her own; somehow she knew his order at the local sandwich shop to absolute perfection.

“Well, you keep glancing at it,” she said with a smile. “I have a daughter. Melody. Even though I’ve gone back to my maiden name professionally, I’m still _technically_ Mrs. Williams, much to the irritation of my mother-in-law. It’s easier to deflect the unwanted attentions of men if I wear my wedding ring still. Most people assume, rightly, I’m a widow in mourning.”

He nodded, swallowing the bite of sandwich he had eaten while she was speaking. “How long ago, if I might ask?”

“Nine months,” she said. “Near the middle of last school year. I only stayed in Leadworth long enough to let Melody finish out the year and look for a good job as far away from my mother-in-law as I could. My father-in-law, Brian, he’d been fond of me, but he passed and...I don’t get along with her much.”

“It wasn’t...?” he asked, groping for how to ask such a delicate question.

She shook her head. “No, I had nothing to do with his death. He was a nurse at the local hospital. He stopped to help someone who was in a fight and then he got beaten and died.” She smiled a sad smile. “That was my Rory, always trying to help. He was a very good man, among the best. I’m just thankful his father got to live long enough to see the three of us be happy for a bit and not see what a horrible woman his wife turned out to be.”

Sherlock nodded at that. He had the feeling there was a lot more to the story, and he was curious, but even with as insensitive as he could be, he knew nine months wasn’t much of a patch on things. “How old is Melody?” he asked.

“She’s eight,” Amy said, her face brightening. “She’s quite brilliant. I mean, not a prodigy or anything, but very very smart. And she’s quite interested in the sciences, which I’ll admit aren’t my strong point.”

“Perhaps I can help?” he suggested, surprising himself slightly.

“I would like that,” she said, giving him a wide smile. “And I think she would too. You seem to be nice, first impressions notwithstanding.”

“I’m surprised,” he said, looking down at his sandwich. “Most people don’t consider me nice.”

“Well, Sherlock, hopefully you’ll find I’m not most people,” she said with a smile before picking up her own sandwich and taking a bite. He nodded, not telling her that in point of fact, he already did. He’d let her find that out on her own.


End file.
